


before this ends

by emavee



Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Accidents, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick isn't even Robin yet, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Young Dick Grayson, and he's gonna get one, he's very very new at it, no super serious injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26944699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee
Summary: Mr. Wayne would definitely be angry if he knew what Dick was planning, but it’s not as if Dick is going to be here long anyway. Might as well take the opportunity to fly one last time, while he still has the chance.Whumptober Day 11: defiance, crying
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948276
Comments: 14
Kudos: 275





	before this ends

**Author's Note:**

> this has definitely been done a million times but i wrote it anyway

Dick stands on the landing, looking up at the magnificent crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It’s beautiful, sparkling like stars. It also must be worth a fortune, probably more than the whole circus.

Definitely more than his trailer. His old trailer.

(Probably more than what Mr. Haly would have had to pay to keep his parents alive.)

Mr. Wayne would definitely be angry if he knew what Dick was planning, but it’s not as if Dick is going to be here long anyway, just until his novelty wears off and the literal millionaire gets bored of having a circus freak hanging around in his giant house. Might as well take the opportunity to fly one last time while he still has the chance. It’s not like messing up some millionaire’s fancy chandelier is going to get him any  _ more _ sent back to juvie.

So he’s totally going to swing on this big, fancy-shmancy chandelier and he’s going to feel the wind on his skin and the feeling of flying in his veins and even if he never flies again it will be worth it, just to remember that feeling, the one he didn’t realize before that felt like love and happiness and  _ family. _

One last hoorah before Mr. Wayne sends him away forever.

He backs up almost to the wall before quickly shedding his socks and taking off running. When he reaches the ornate bannister railing, he jumps, using it as a springboard and suddenly he is  _ soaring. _

A laugh bubbles out of his chest—his first one since… He lands perfectly, hands wrapping around one of the metal arms with practiced ease and he swings. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend that his hands are gripping the bar of the trapeze and his parents are there, cheering him on.

Dick, for the first time in what feels like years but is really only a handful of the worst weeks of his life, smiles. This feels like home.

Suddenly the chandelier is pitching sideways and it’s throwing Dick’s balance off in a way that the trapeze never has and then  _ he’s falling. _

He scrambles, but there’s nothing to hold on to, no way to catch himself. No practice net or waiting arms, just cold harsh marble below him that’s rushing up way too fast.

He hits the ground hard, landing mostly on his side but also a little bit on his arm, and for a moment, everything is silent, time seems to stand still.

And then like a tsunami crashing down on his head, fear and panic shaking in his bones, Dick whimpers and tries so hard to breathe. Everything is quaking, it’s like there’s electricity in his veins, and his body won’t stay still but at the same time he can’t seem to move. The chandelier swings overhead, held up by a single unbroken chain. Dick prays it doesn’t follow him in crashing to the marble floor.

He sobs, and then whines more when just doing that  _ hurts. _

“Mama,” he gasps out on instinct. He wants his mom. He needs his mom. And his dad. They’ll make it all better. They’ll make the hurt go away. All he needs is a hug and a bandaid and maybe some ice and everything will be okay. “Mama!”

“Dick!”

Dick tears his eyes from the ceiling and for just a moment, with tears blurring his vision, the figure running toward him looks like his dad. 

Except then he gets closer and he’s too broad, too tall, too pale. Not his dad, then. Mr. Wayne.

_ Mr. Wayne. _ And Dick just broke his probably more-expensive-than-the-whole-circus chandelier. 

Dick whimpers. What was he thinking? Of course Mr. Wayne was eventually going to send him back, but Dick should have just waited, no matter how much it hurt and confused him to not know how long he would be here. But a little bit of that constant anxiety was so much better than any more time spent at the detention center. All he’s done is succeeded in getting himself sent away even earlier. And he broke the chandelier. What if Mr. Wayne pressed charges? What if they sent him to real jail, for adults? The mean lady kept saying he’d probably end up there one day anyway so it probably wouldn’t be that hard for them to send him there.

He’s so stupid. He’s so stupid and everything hurts and he really, really wants his mom.

“Dick, what happened?” 

Mr. Wayne is crouched down in front of him, still dressed in his suit and his outside jacket, so he probably just got back from work. His hands are hovering but he doesn’t touch Dick, just sits there awkwardly.

“I…” Dick glances up at the still-swinging chandelier, and Mr. Wayne follows his gaze, stiffening as he puts the scene together.

“You fell,” Mr. Wayne says. It’s not a question, but Dick nods anyway. Mr. Wayne turns his attention back to him. “Are you okay?”

_ No.  _ His side really, really hurts, and he thinks he might have messed up his wrist a little bit. But he can’t tell Mr. Wayne that after he just broke his chandelier. Instead, he chomps down hard on his lower lip and tries to stop the tears running down his cheeks.

Something softens juuuust slightly in Mr. Wayne’s expression. “Dick, I need you to tell me where you’re hurt, otherwise I can’t help you.”

Dick shakes his head, and the movement makes him dizzy so he immediately stops and hopes that he isn’t actually swaying like he feels he is. “I’m fine,” he croaks. Mr. Wayne frowns, deep and scary. Dick swallows hard. “I promise,” he whispers.

“Dick, you just fell nearly twenty feet. Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

He can’t go back now, can’t let Mr. Wayne know he  _ lied _ on top of everything else. He’ll be okay, really. He’s seen his mom and dad take care of their own injuries before, Dick can do that too. “No, really, I swear. I’m—I’m fine.”

Suddenly Mr. Wayne is scooping him up and Dick lets out a surprised gasp. Somehow he manages to carry him so that it doesn’t crunch up his side. On instinct, his good fingers cling tightly to his dress shirt. Surely he’s wrinkling it, but he can’t seem to be able to tell his fingers to unclench.

Mr. Wayne carries him all the way to the too-fancy kitchen and sets him down on the countertop that Dick knows for sure Mr. Pennyworth wouldn’t approve of him being on. Actually, Mr. Pennyworth really doesn’t seem to like anyone in his kitchen, although a couple times he let Dick help him bake. Still, Mr. Pennyworth is usually pretty nice, but he has some strict rules, and Dick knows for sure that he is breaking one right now, and the last thing he wants to do is break  _ more _ stuff.

He squirms a little, planning to hop down immediately, but sharp pain shoots up his side and across his chest and he can’t help the little whimper that comes with it.

Mr. Wayne catches it immediately, his frown growing as he stares Dick down. “See now, that  _ definitely _ didn’t sound like nothing to me. So, why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to break it, honest. I swear! It was an accident!”

“Why were you even up there?”

“I just…” Dick clenches his eyes shut and bows his head. It doesn’t stop the tears, and likely does little to stop Mr. Wayne from seeing him cry like a baby. “I just wanted to fly again,” he whispers. “I—I didn’t know I would break the chandelier, I promise. I’m really sorry.”

“Dick, I don’t care about the chandelier. I care about you, and the fact that you put yourself in danger. I care that you got hurt.”

“Really?” Dick’s head snaps up, but this time it’s so much easier to ignore the spinning of the room because Mr. Wayne’s frown looks so much gentler now, like he… like actually cares. “You mean that?”

“Yes, Dick. I mean, we’re definitely going to have to lay down some more ground rules about what is and isn’t okay to climb on, but that can wait. Right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You’re not… You’re not gonna send me away?” he blurts out. “Why?”

Mr. Wayne reels back slightly. “Send you away? Why would you think that?”

“I… I broke your chandelier! It had to be worth like a bajillion dollars! And… And… I’m just some circus freak!” The anger that’s been boiling under his skin on and off since the night his parents fell is returning full force, and Dick is letting it sweep him away. It doesn’t exactly feel good, but things hurt a lot less when he’s angry, and Dick is so, so tired of hurting. “I don’t fit in here, Mr. Wayne, and… and I’m tired of waiting around until you realize that too. So, maybe you  _ should _ just go ahead and send me back now. Get it over with.”

What is wrong with him? Why can’t he stop all this…  _ feeling? _ The sudden anger had rushed up on him so suddenly and what is he even saying? He doesn’t want to go back, not ever. 

“No,” Mr. Wayne snaps, sudden and harsh. Dick flinches and then gasps when the movement makes something stab in his side. “You are never going back there, Dick. Understand? Never. I won’t allow it.”

“I don’t understand.” There goes the anger again, retreating as quickly as it had descended upon him, leaving confusion in its wake. It seems that those are his only three moods these days: anger, confusion, and grief. 

Mr. Wayne sighs. “You never should have been in that detention center in the first place. Some very cruel and very wrong people put you there, and you didn’t deserve it. You’re here because I saw myself in you, and I hoped I would be able to help you.”

“I kinda think you have to actually be around in order to help me,” he blurts out before his brain catches up with his mouth and he realizes what a horrible thing that was to say. Eyes wide, he stammers, “I mean—I’m sorry. It was very nice of you to…” He trails off, seeing the slight grin growing on Mr. Wayne’s face.

“I guess I sort of deserved that one, huh? I’m sorry, Dick. I  _ have _ been spending a lot of time at the office. It’s a busy time right now, but I’ll try to get home more often.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Wayne. You don’t—”

“It’s just Bruce, kiddo.  _ Mr. Wayne _ makes me feel a bit ancient.”

“Bruce…” Dick says softly, testing out the word. It’s a bit weird, but he finds he likes it a lot more than ‘Mr. Wayne.’ “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” He sighs heavily. “Dick, I’ve got to be honest here. I don’t know what to do about the chandelier thing. I’m very, very new at this.”

“Oh. Um, well my… my mom and dad always… always used to put me in time out if I misbehaved. Or keep me out of a show if it was a really big thing, but um, that doesn’t really work anymore…”

Bruce cuts him off just as his vision starts to blur again. “Not what I meant. Dick, it was an accident, and I would prefer if you didn’t do it again because you could have been seriously hurt, but it was just a mistake. Mistakes happen. And… I know what it’s like to be where you are. Honestly, Alfred probably wishes that the worst he’d had to worry about with me was breaking a chandelier.”

“Really?” 

“Really. What I’m really worried about is helping you find a better outlet. Do you miss the trapeze? I wasn’t sure you would have wanted to again after… Sorry.” He cringes at his own words, looking so horribly awkward about it all. 

“I miss it,” Dick whispers. “I miss  _ them. _ For a split second, right before I—I fell,” he swallows hard, trying to hold back the tears, “it was better. It didn’t hurt.”

“Right,” Bruce nods. “I’ll see if I can find some place to have one installed.”

“Oh, Mr. Way—Bruce,” he corrects quickly, “you don’t have to do that. Honest. I’ll—I’ll be okay.”

“Dick, I would much rather you swing on the real deal than try again with the chandelier. And I can afford it, okay? Don’t worry. In fact, it’ll probably wind up being cheaper than the chandelier.” He’s probably trying to joke but it falls so, so horribly flat.

Dick flinches, guilt churning full force in his stomach and stabbing at his chest. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“Hm. I think I can accept your apology, if you agree to tell me where you’re hurt.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dick slowly nods, still refusing to look at Bruce. “M’ side really hurts. And my wrist.”

“Alright. Thank you.” Bruce turns and for a moment Dick thinks he’s just going to leave, but instead he walks only as far as the freezer, rummaging around for a moment before returning with a couple of ice packs. “Alfred is a lot better at this than I am,” he explains, “and once he gets home from the store we’ll get him to check you over. But for now—” Bruce holds up the ice packs and then helps Dick position them on the parts of his body that hurt the most. 

Dick thanks him with a sniffle and then they lapse into some sort of mostly-awkward silence. 

“I want my mom,” Dick whispers. It sounds almost like a sob even to his own ears.

“I know,” Bruce says back, equally as soft. He reaches out, setting a stiff but gentle hand on Dick’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Does it get any easier?”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, long enough for Dick to look back up at him, but finally he nods once, slowly. “It does. I don’t know that it ever really goes away, but it gets easier to manage.”

“Oh.”

“But you’re going to be okay, Dick. I promise.” He says it like Dick absolutely  _ needs _ to listen to him, like it’s the most important information in the world. 

It seems impossible, but Dick really, really wants to believe him. 

“Thank you,” he says, crying harder now. He feels like such a  _ baby _ but he can’t stop. He leans forward on instinct and oh so awkwardly, Bruce pulls him into a hug. He clearly hasn’t had a lot of experience with hugs recently, but he’s really really trying and that just makes Dick sob even harder. He can’t stop crying and he doesn’t understand why, but Bruce never chastises him, never even shushes him.

He just holds him, and Dick lets himself be held, waiting for it to be over. Bruce doesn’t leave the entire time, and Dick starts to think that maybe he won’t actually have to be alone.


End file.
